


Et Amor Inferni

by DragonsBlood



Series: Hellraiser Series [1]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Hellbound Heart - Clive Barker, Hellraiser & Related Fandoms, Hellraiser (Comics), Hellraiser (Movies)
Genre: Dark, F/M, Ghost (Sweden Band) - Freeform, Sexy Times, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27096772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonsBlood/pseuds/DragonsBlood
Summary: Pinhead/Kirsty drabbles in the style of songs from the band Ghost. Contains triggers, so be warned. Now contains smut!
Relationships: Kirsty Cotton/Pinhead, Kirsty Cotton/Pinhead/Elliot Spencer
Series: Hellraiser Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993765
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Deus Culpa

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my foray into drabbling into the pairing known as Pinsty. I had read the Hellish Love drabbles and... (Chef's kiss) I'd thought I would make drabbles of my own, except, they would be Ghost songs. Seriously though, two of my favorite things together... So I will start off with Opus Eponymous.
> 
> Well, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kirsty blames God for her misfortune. (Seriously though, who wouldn't?)

**Deus Culpa**

\- Translation: "God's Fault"

* * *

She had studied Latin in her later years. Deus Culpa had meant, "God's Fault"

And it _had_ been.

God's fault for all the pain and suffering of the living realm, doing nothing to release any of the victims from the torment, for the presence of any and every kind of evil, from the smallest of crimes, to the existence of Hell itself.

It had also been God's fault that she had been cursed with her mother dying because of an unsolved home invasion when she was younger. She could point out who did it, but the evidence wasn't even there. His fault that she had a lecherous uncle whose aspirations was to fuck anything that moves, including her. His fault that her beloved, but very much flawed father had remarried to a woman who not only repeatedly cheated on him, but was actively bringing home and killing other men so said uncle could feed upon their corpses for his regeneration.

God's fault for her running away from the skinless monster he had become, (which is not to say that he wasn't a monster before) but being unable to run away from the disgusting, vilest, horrendous memories she had come to associate with his face, from past, present, and future. His fault for exploring the puzzle box she had stolen from Frank. His fault that she had come across the lead Cenobite and his Gash. His fault that out of fear, she had made a deal with the cenobites to trade his soul for her own.

His fault for Julia luring her father to his demise, (even when she didn't even know it yet) and the ensuing battle and subsequent end to both Frank and Julia. His fault for her de-summoning the cenobites after they tried to take her anyways. His fault because Steve found it too much to handle and just dumped her off to a mental facility, which by the way, was run by a "Doctor" who just happened to seek Hell for himself, and apparently, with Julia's help, found it and became a Cenobite himself.

His fault that she had to protect a mute girl from harm. His fault that she had to convince the other cenobites to join her cause by showing him a picture of his human self, and happily obliging, and finally, back in his human form, he smiled at her, out of gratitude and maybe even love. His fault that his death made her mourn for him. His fault that she took Channard down by wearing the oh so precious skin of her reviled... Not even stepmother before she got sucked back in to Hell.

Bitch.

Kirsty also knew it was God's fault that she had willingly made a deal with Pinhead again for five souls. Her greedy ass douchecanoe of a "Husband", his co-conspirator buddy, and his three mistresses. And enjoyed every single minute of their ends.

It was also God's fault that she was damned, body and soul. To the one referred to as Xipe Totec.

_Deus Culpa._ Kirsty thought, taking another sip of her drink.

_Deus Culpa._


	2. Con Clavi Con Dio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kirsty's like "Fuck it, I'm gonna be going to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had it figured out how Deus Culpa was going to be like and Kirsty blaming God was it. And yes, I started this drabble fic with the fact of Doug liking Ghost in mind. I can only hope y'all will like this as much as you liked Deus Culpa!

** Con Clavi Con Dio **

-Translation, "With Nails, With God"

* * *

_Lucifer, we are here_

_For your praise, Evil One_

"Are you ready to accept your destiny, to be by my side forever more?"

He proposed.

"I am ready."

Were the first words that exited her mouth.

"Very well."

An alter of intricately carved tools suddenly appeared before her.

_Our conjuration sings infernal psalms_

_And smear the smudge in bleeding palms_

He took out of his leather cassock, an elaborately decorated athame and sliced the palm of his hand open. His expression read of ecstasy. The blood dripping into an ancient carved chalice.

"Give me your hand." He ordered.

She did as she was instructed, and the blade carved into the flesh, emitting a small, but decent pool of blood. He then overturned her hand, so the blood poured into the same chalice.

He lifted the chalice up to her lips after taking a sip himself.

"Drink."

She did so.

_Siamo con clavi, (Siamo con Dio)_

_Siamo con il nostro Dio Scuro_

She listened as he chanted some otherworldly language. (Or was it Latin?)

It sounded operatic, and strangely enough, relaxing. She hadn't thought him to be this great of a singer. And yet, it was befitting of him. Entranced by the siren like melody, she readily followed behind.

The world she had known since birth was nothing more than a cesspit of greedy ass self righteous egomaniacs with a sense of entitlement. Kirsty was done with all of that. "Normal" society had given her a lot of hypocritical contradictory double standards. At least Pinhead respected her as an equal.

That world shrunk smaller and smaller with every step she took.

_Demigod, our task_

_Behind mask, Chosen Son_

The portal to Hell had unveiled itself before her very eyes.

It was the way she had remembered it the last time she was inside.

Labyrinthine.

Maze like.

Serpentine.

"Hell remembers you."

She couldn't agree more.

_Oh, you rebel chief, Destroyer of the earth_

_Rise from precipice through birth_

He, on the other hand, reveled in the victory of finally getting the one who kept slipping his grasp, until now, that is.

It was never a question of _if_ she would have ever accepted her fate, simply a matter of _when_ it would happen, how long it would take before Kirsty faced the inevitable.

The Hell Priest smirked to himself.

_Oh yes. It all worked out in the end quite magnificently._

His thoughts wandering towards the future.

_Sathanas_

_We are One_

_Out of three_

_Trinity!_

As he held her hand, leading her away from the realm of the unworthy, the blood from both of their wounded palms commingled, making their bond whole and complete.

It was a beautiful morbid sight one would dare to behold.

_Siamo con Clavi, (Siamo con Dio)_

_Siamo con il nostro Dio Scuro_

_Siamo con Clavi, (Siamo con Dio)_

_Siamo con il nostro Dio Scuro_

_Siamo con Clavi, (Siamo con Dio)_

_Siamo con il nostro Dio Scuro_

_Siamo con Clavi, (Siamo con Dio)_

_Siamo con il nostro Dio Scuro_

The line of cenobites stretched far and wide to seemingly endless eternity.

They all greeted her with a knowingly warm welcome. No hostility, no suspicion, just a long time coming.

It had since been a preconceived notion that she would occupy these walls and coexist with every last one of them.

He then turned to her, and looked her in the eye.

"Welcome home, Kirsty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like? Write your review!


	3. Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kirsty becomes the Abbess.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This one took a while to figure out. I did know that it was going to be from Pinhead's pov. I hope this one is good. Is anyone interested in a sneak peek of a possible 2nd fanfic called Hellraiser: Infestissumam?

**Ritual** \- _n._ A religious or solemn ceremony consisting of a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order.

* * *

_Tonight, we're summoned for a divine cause_

_Remembrance, no_

_But for their future loss_

It had been a long time ago that the wretched slimy soul of the one named Frank Cotton had desperately paid handsomely for the Lament Configuration. Who knew that through this act of greed, he would attain his most fervent disciple?

Certainly not the Old One, Leviathan Himself.

The way her curiosity had gotten the best of her better judgement, the pleading look of innocence in her eyes, her mouth gagging on the fingers of his fellow cenobite, Chatterer, he had almost wished it were his own...

The very thought made the unholy blood in his veins pump ever so quickly into an arousal.

However it may have been, it was enough reminiscing for the Hell Priest.

This was a very special day for him. And her as well.

Today was a day of union. Union of flesh, union of blood, union of spirit. And a day for the human race to lose another human being to the kingdom of Hell.

_This chapel of ritual_

_Smells of dead human sacrifices_

_From the altar_

He walked down the grand chamber where souls were usually taken to to await their final fates. The hallways usually stunk of rotting meat and iron, but this time, he tasked a few novice cenobites to wash down the whole place and burn some strong incense.

"And if I see see or smell even one overlooked piece of flesh..."

He made a throat slitting gesture to the young female before him.

"Yes, sir."

The novice scurried away. She knew she could not let down Leviathan's favorite son.

As Pinhead had other matters to tend to, he sauntered away from the hustle.

_Bedouins and nomads_

_Carried through the times_

_Through pestilences and famine_

_These ancient scrolls of rhymes_

The many times before, he would take a lover or two, and none of his cohorts would bat an eyelid, if they had any, of course.

However, this time was very different. First off, it was not even that long ago before she became one of them, and yet, _her_ of all of them?

_Ignore the death glares,_ he would say. _It is not worth making enemies over._

He had seen Kirsty, er, shit. He had never been able to rememberher new name. Kirsty was all he had known her as and thus, it stuck to his memory like glue. Even after all this, her human name was much more ingrained into his thoughts.

Anyways, she had been verbally threatened by a longtime female member of his Gash that if anything bad happened in any way to him, Leviathan be damned, she will be coming for her, and her end will not be swift.

_The other woman means well._ He thought to himself.

Despite this, Kirsty defended herself, vehemently assuring, to little avail, that nothing would happen.

It ended with the other female walking away, making a "watching you" gesture.

_Our fallen angel vexed was banished from the sky_

_Recite now from the text, pray for all to die_

The Chatterer clicked his teeth about the aforementioned scuffle.

"Yes, I am aware. Thank you for the daily report." Pinhead responded.

He clicked his teeth again.

"You do not have to ask me every time you desire for a dismissal."

The Chatterer immediately took his leave after that.

_This chapel of ritual_

_Smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar bed_

_On this night of ritual, invoking our master_

_To procreate the unholy bastard_

It was now time.

The ritual had begun.

The humdrum mumbling gradually died down into nothing as the Hell Priest motioned his hand for silence.

He opened the tome on the podium in front of him.

He turned to the correct page.

The opening text was read:

_Our father, who art in Hell_

_Unhallowed be thy name_

_Cursed be the sons and daughters_

_Of thine nemesis whom are to blame_

_Thy kingdom come_

_Nema!_

The entire crowd was in shock and awe as a beautiful (in their eyes) woman appeared before them all. She was, for the most part, clad in a white silk dress, save for the partial gloves on her arms, as well as the sandals she wore. One could see that the skin from her back was pulled away and fastened by small hooks, exposing her back muscles. Her feet up to her foreleg seem to have been bereft of the epidermis as well.

The way her head looked like left something to be desired, however.

Aside from two extra hooks fastening from her collar to the back of the head, like her twin flame, she was also, pin-studded.

_Tonight, we celebrate for his unholy being_

_Now celebrate the end_

The Abbess walked over to where the Hell Priest stood and he took her hand in his. He bowed to her, as she returned the favor.

After a long while, the Hell Priest stood right back up, bringing the Abbess with him.

"Tonight, the human realm loses another one of their own to our faith. Do you, child, renounce your previous ties to human society?"

"I do."

"Do you accept the will of Leviathan and our teachings?"

"I will."

_This chapel of ritual_

_Smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar bed_

_On this night of ritual, invoking our master_

_To procreate the unholy bastard_

"And finally, will you stand by us all, body and soul?"

The Abbess thought about it for a second.

"I thought you would never ask..." She smirked evilly.

After the vows were taken, the Hell Priest took her hands and led her closer to him in an embrace.

"Welcome to the fold, my Abbess."

There was a collective utterance among the others, as well as a "nema".

She truly was one of them now..,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know in the reviews how you like it!
> 
> -Sister Jex Corvus


	4. Elizabeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the events of Hellseeker are a little reimagined......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Just so you know, these drabbles do not go in any particular order. I just go with whatever fits the lyrics best. I hope I didn't make Kirsty too OOC, but then again, if Pinhead and Elliot can be two separate entities, then so can Kirsty and the Abbess.

**Elizabeth \- **A feminine given name derived from a form of the Hebrew name Elisheva, meaning, "God is my Oath" or "God is my Abundance", as rendered in the Septuagint. An example of a figure who has this name is Elizabeth Bathory.

* * *

_Underneath the moonlight of old Hungarian skies_

_Buried in the blood drenched earth,_ _these barren lands of ice_

_She was an evil woman with an evil old soul_

_An' piercin' eyes emotionless, a heart so black and cold_

Kirsten Elizabeth Cotton.

That was her full name.

Once she had feared the name being called in a sense of anger, now she has heard it being called out in a sense of fear. This was never supposed to be her fate, she was supposed to be moving on from her personal tragedies, happily married and settling down with a nice man who would never know her dark past unless he asked, and even then, love her so much no matter what.

Well, she _was_ happily married for a time. But alas, it was never meant to be. You see, said husband wanted her inheritance and run off with one of the side pieces. Which one, she couldn't tell you.

Asshole tried to get rid of her with the Lament Configuration.

_What a fucking moron._ She thought to herself.

_Elizabeth, in the chasm where was my soul_

_Forever young, Elizabeth_

_Bathory in the castle of your death_

_You're still alive, Elizabeth_

She had some sort of curse on her. For one reason or another, someone would want her dead, and yet, so far, they would not succeed. From her perverse depraved uncle and that woman she will never call "mother" or even "stepmother" for as long as she lived, died and reborn by the hands of the equally as depraved Phillip Channard.

And now, the very husband she had sworn to death do they part. He would be the last one soon enough.

His coworker and would be partner in crime came first. He was surprisingly easy to dupe. Once he saw the faces of the cenobites, his face turned pale with fear and she swore she seen his pants darken at the front. The next soul to go was Gwen. She had to sit down and bear the torment with a smile before two cenobites would come to pick up the toll. Tawny was next. Poor, poor Tawny. She almost pitied her, but then again, not so much. And Sage, she was sent off to Hell cursing up a storm.

_I'm still fucking alive._ She thought.

_Her pact with Satan_

_Her despisal of mankind_

_Her acts of cruelty_

_And her lust for blood_

_Makes her one of us_

Xipe Totec watched ever so closely as Kirsty had reaped yet another soul she promised for him in her stead. This one was not even aware that she was a mere side piece of an unfaithful, unscrupulous greedy piece of sewage rot. Not to even think of the co-conspirator whose name escapes him but is of no importance. His best friend was crying like a little bitch when his soul was being taken.

He could not for the eternal life of him figure out what she initially saw in the pathetic human to begin with. He was no different from that sad sack of shit excuse of an uncle, with the only difference is that he was _not_ blood related to her.

_Our ancient countess was refused her desire's will_

_To bathe in pure fresh blood, she'd peasant virgins killed_

In the car, Kirsty glared at the man she no longer had any feelings for. The infatuation had dissipated into nothingness, the hard work she had previously put into was for nothing. She held nothing but the absolute hatred for him.

_Fuck him._ She thought. _But then again, he wasn't the only one who cheated in the marriage._

"Oh look honey, a deer!" He managed to feign.

She didn't even bother.

_Elizabeth, in the chasm where was my soul_

_Forever young, Elizabeth_

_Bathory in the castle of your death_

_You're still alive, Elizabeth_

Kirsty had had haunting thoughts about how far she had fallen from grace. The nightmares were very vivid. She dreamt she took it a step further by shooting them in their heads. It certainly was the case with Trevor, but only because she did so in self defense. She wrestled the gun away from him and BOOM!

Puking in the toilet for the seemingly hundredth time, she remembered as he was dragged into Hell, one of the cenobites flashed a horned gesture to his face, leaving him befuddled.

For all the shock, she couldn't help but to laugh at that.

_What a little bitch._

_Elizabeth, in the chasm where was my soul_

_Forever young, Elizabeth_

_Bathory in the castle of your death_

_You're still alive, Elizabeth_

He felt a strong sense of stirring from his loins which needed some of his manual attention. He lusted for the inevitable day that she would eventually go to him and realize her place by his side.

One day.

Just one day.

_Kirsten Elizabeth Cotton. We will make a devoted, favored cenobite of you yet._ He had thought to himself.

But for now, he was content to sit back and play the waiting game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and review! And yes, the events of Hellseeker can be a dream sequence. It makes so much more sense that way. So let's pretend that she simply sent them to their fates that she dreamt she shot them in the heads as a guilt manifestation.
> 
> -Sister Jex Corvus


	5. Stand by Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kirsty and the Novitiate rescue Pinhead's consciousness...

**Stand by Him-** ( _transitive verb, idiom)_ To support or to be loyal or faithful to someone or something.

* * *

_The Devil's power is the greatest one_

_When his' and hers' holiest shuns the sun_

The insufficient light of the being known as Leviathan shone above the labyrinthine realm known as Hell. He could not help but to focus on the pair below Him. His most favored son of all with a mere human woman? The one who had escaped their grasp again and again? She who rendered his power useless after that other child reversed the steps to the puzzle box, that of which was advanced to a rhombus so the others couldn't be de-summoned?

A travesty!

Blasphemy!

However it may be, if not for her unrequited love for humanity, she would make a beautiful addition to the Order of the Gash.

A conundrum, that Kirsty Cotton girl. As much as she irked Him, seeing just how far she would go to save her skin, flesh and bone is an impressive feat in of itself. He hears some of His more fanatical followers ask why He had not yet tortured and ended the young woman's soul. After all, He has had many, many opportunities to do so, many more reasons to do it.

Nevertheless, two reasons why He has not stand. Aside from not having a desire to earn the despondency and wrath of His favorite son, He knows potential growth when He sees it. After all, He has existed long enough to spot the perfect candidate from conception.

_A temptress smitten by the blackest force_

_A vicar bitten blind in intercourse_

The cold metal was grazing her cheek as the two odd lovers kissed passionately. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her back grinding against the stone cold wall she rested on.

Pinhead broke off the kiss for a moment or two.

"Why must you do this to yourself?"

"Do what?" Kirsty asked.

"Subject yourself to such torturous derision and scorn from humanity, it does not suit you well."

"I don't know myself. I was always taught to see the good in it. I guess I still have hope. And besides, I don't think your god likes me very much. Not that he doesn't have a good reason to anyways."

"And yet, He does nothing about it."

Kirsty shot him a glance of surprise.

"You are much more patient and forgiving than I would have ever been, even in my human days."

She didn't answer. Instead, she smirked as she took his partially gloved hand in her own and guided it to her belt buckle. As per the unsaid instructions, Xipe undid the belt buckle. He looked at her for a sign that he could go further, to which she shook her head in a positive connotation. He unbuttoned and then, unzipped her pants, letting them fall to her ankles, revealing her white underwear.

"It's okay, slide those down too." She requested.

_The witch hammer struck her down_

_On our Sabbath, she's unbound_

There were a few many cenobites who did not approve of this relationship between their Black Pope and that trickster of a human girl. It was an affront to what they stood for, after all of what he enforced, their Hell Priest would turn around and fuck that, that human? Despite their prayers, complaints, and grievances, their god Leviathan, who usually looks down on such issues, was doing nothing about it. Led by a masked man who referred to himself as the Puppeteer, they sought to take matters into their own hands.

"The Hell Priest has failed us all. Failed us all by screwing that _slut_! And yet, He is still Leviathan's beloved son? This is an outrage! He needs to be downgraded a little, put that Hell wrecking whore where she really ought to belong, in the eternal prisons!"

Loud cheering can be heard across the crowd as the Puppeteer beckoned their voices to be louder.

"Yes! That bitch will suffer under our wrath, we will show her who's boss!"

More cheering.

"In fact, once I'm done with her, she'll be nothing but a heap of dead rotting flesh!"

Even more cheering.

"That pinheaded Hell Priest _will_ realize his grievous, final, mistake!"

Bellowed with much sinister threat, the crowd cheered, along with a few 'oo's.

_'Tis the night of the witch_

_'Tis the night of the witch tonight_

_And the vengeance is hers for as long as she stands by Him_

_'Tis the night of the witch_

_'Tis the night of the witch tonight_

_And the vengeance is hers for as long as she stands by Him_

As her underwear was slowly, but surely slid down, joining her undone pants, she buckled under his gentle, but ghostly touch.

"I see you are enjoying this rather well Kirsty." Pinhead teased as he continued his slow, agonizing, continuous edging.

"Mmmhm..." Was all Kirsty could mutter as she was recieving an ungodly amount of pleasure. (Since when has anything that happened to Kirsty been considered godly?)

He smirked again as his fingers glided over the sensitive areas. He stopped for a moment. Kirsty whined in protest.

"Patience, child, you are getting worked up again." He chided.

"Your touch is so addicting." She moaned. And it was.

He continued his manual administrations when the Novitiate barged in, much to his irritability.

"Have you no sense of boundaries, girl? Or have you never been taught the art of knocking on the door first?" He spat acidly.

"Many remorseful apologies, Your Infernal Unholiness, it is urgent and cannot wait." The Novitiate replied, diverting her eyes away from Kirsty, who was pulling her pants back up.

"Spit it out, then!"

"A masked cenobite known only as the Puppeteer has riled up some of our own and plans to usurp your title and..." She looked apologetically at Kirsty. "Inflict vicious harm upon her."

The Hell Priest's temperament morphed from frustrated anger to confusion to concern. Who exactly is the Puppeteer? Admittedly, he didn't know _every_ single cenobite that crossed his path, but he never had even _heard_ of this Puppeteer before. Who was he? And most importantly, why now of all events? Was he even an escaped tortured soul disguised as a cenobite? The Hell Priest needed to investigate who this cenobite was.

"Thank you for divulging this. Guard Kirsty with your life, like it depends on it. Because it _does._ " Pinhead instructed, with a bit of dire threatening laced in the last couple of words.

"Affirmative and much gratitude, Unholiness." The Novitiate understood what she must do.

_All witchcraft comes from carnal lust which is in women insatiable_

Xipe Totec sat down in a cold, bereft room to meditate. As soon as he relaxed his mind, his consciousness waded through the labyrinthine paths. His concious had heard the cheers and jeers of a bloodthirsty crowd. The center of the crowd's attention was one male. He was covered head to toe in leather, not an inch of skin lay uncovered, which suddenly made him suspicious. However, he was sidetracked by the Puppeteer's next words.

"That _filthy little whore_ will get what she has coming to her!"

This was an affront! How dare this, this thing, this man, this pathetic worm of a soul say such a horrendous thing about his darling Kirsty! Slanderizing her as if she was nothing more than- He quickly forced himself to collect his thoughts before his human side could overtake him.

Unfortunately, this proved to be a trap, as before he knew it, his mind was trapped within an unknown contraption.

_No! Not now! I have to protect Kirsty..._

His still cenobitic physical body slumped against the grainy floors, eyes white and blank.

_A moon shone brightly above her trial_

_As flames ate through her body defiled_

The Puppeteer was handed the object in which Pinhead's consciousness was imprisoned within. It appeared to be a porcelain figurine of a man and a woman laying naked together.

"Tonight, we strike back!" He loudly announced.

Still more loud roars of cheering.

Meanwhile...

"He's taking too long a time." The Novitiate murmured.

This filled Kirsty with worry. "Should we check up on him?"

The Novitiate usually did not like to walk in on her superior in important business, she was already ashamed to have interrupted a tender, vulnerable moment. The only reason it happened anyways is due to the fact that much more important matters emerged. On the other hand, the Hell Priest usually did not waste this much time on investigation. At this point, facing his wrath again _was_ worth it.

"I have a dreaded feeling that we should." She stated. She would not desire to cause unnecessary distress upon the human, but she herself was feeling the fear and anxiety as well.

And as such, Kirsty had already sprinted off as the low ranking cenobite followed.

The two had come upon the dark room Pinhead had solitarily inhabited. His body lay limp upon the floor, his eyes blank white and wide open, but he was still alive.

"How could this have happened?" Kirsty wondered aloud.

"His mind is trapped within something. I can feel it. Whoever actually did so knows they have committed a transgression against a high ranking cenobite. If this goes on for too long, he will surely die..." The female novice informed.

"So we have to find whatever it is that his mind is being kept in and destroy it!" Kirsty exclaimed.

"It is not as simple as that, Kirsty. We do not know what the encasement is made of. Besides, we have to be careful. Some of the Puppeteer's followers are psychotic and cannot be reasoned with. We have to practice diligence. For that reason alone, I must come with you. You will find him faster with myself around. I will also be your muscle." Warned the cenobite novice.

"Okay then. But we still need to keep his body away from anyone who might barge in here."

The Novitiate looked around for a potential hiding place he could easily exit once his mind and body linked again.

"Right over there!" The Novitiate pointed out a closet like contraption. "You carry him by the legs, as I feel you are familiar with _his lower extremities_. _"_

"Ha, ha..." Kirsty snarked unamusedly. She did as the lower ranked cenobite instructed and the two carried his unconscious form all the way to the smaller room and then closed the door.

_The witch hammer struck her down_

_On our Sabbath, she's unbound_

The two women were racing against the clock of evading danger. The Novitiate was sensing out vibrations as to where the trinket that stored the projection of her superior was.

After a few seemingly dead ends, they stumbled onto a dark tunnel.

"We are getting warmer. Once we walk through here, we should be able to find the object containing his mind." Informed the Novitiate.

Kirsty followed the young cenobite into the tunnel. Upon multiple hallucinations piling upon each other, she noticed a particular one drug from the deepest recesses of her mind. Two marionettes on a stage. It was innocent enough, however, it carried a much sinister undertone for her. Her eyes glossed over and her mind dissociated. She numbed out her consciousness.

The Novitiate noticed her human companion's reaction upon seeing the marionettes.

"Kirsty, are you alright? Do you desire for me to cover your eyes and ears?" She asked with concern.

She was sidetracked by the interruption. "No, I'm fine. Thanks anyways." Kirsty declined.

The Novitiate decided not to press any further as they both continued the trail.

_'Tis the night of the witch_

_'Tis the night of the witch tonight_

_And the vengeance is hers for as long as she stands by Him_

_'Tis the night of the witch_

_'Tis the night of the witch tonight_

_And the vengeance is hers for as long as she stands by Him_

Without another word, they both came to the end of the tunnel.

A large, but still rather miniscule crowd was present.

As soon as Kirsty and the Novitiate came across the Puppeteer and his ilk, the young female cenobite's senses were assaulted by a vile, perverse aura that emitted from the leather encased man, which made her marred flesh recoil in disgust.

"This man is not a cenobite. He is a mere soul who is of your blood. Do you know him?" She asked.

"I hope not." Though she had a feeling that hope would be in vain.

"The figurine on his person. That is where the Hell Priest's mind is trapped."

"We need to get it away from him. You wait in the crowd, I will distract him, once I give the signal, then you strike."

"That is a fair plan, but are you sure he will not succeed in harming you?" The novice asked.

"I'm not a china doll. I've always dealt with his ass before. Now is no different."

"Very well. Be careful out there." The Novitiate pled.

Kirsty smiled. "I will."

With that, she then sauntered up to the stage where the Puppeteer was while the Novitiate kept a close monitor among the crowd.

"Hey mister! I heard you were looking for me..." Kirsty announced.

The puppeteer was taken aback by this act of brazenness. He was most certainly shocked by his most hated woman actually coming to him in front of everybody. He knew it was a trap because she _would never go to him willingly before._ But for now, he decided to go along with it.

"Well, well, what a treat. The horny bitch decided to face her end with dignity." He boasted.

The Novitiate had to restrain herself from eviscerating the bastard on the spot.

 _You must remain detached and channel your sadism into torture._ She repeated to herself in a mantra as she watched Kirsty inch ever closer to the not-cenobite.

She attempted to reach for the figurine, but he kept it out of her reach.

"Ah, ah ah, Princess. Good girls get their rewards when they behave." He sneered.

With her other hand, she snatched off his balaclava, revealing a skinless face.

 _Oh my fuck! It's him!_ Kirsty was dreading meeting him again. She thought Julia had killed him when she punched his still beating heart out as revenge for stabbing her.

"Could you believe all the shit I had to do for basic body functioning? It's all your fucking fault! And now, I got my revenge." Frank gloated as he held up the erotic figurine. "Tell me Kirsty, does his _other head_ have pins on it? 'Cause when it comes to you, he thinks with that one!"

This pissed off Kirsty to no end. "The only reason you're here in the first place is because you couldn't get it up unless it was me! Julia was the next best thing when you were dickless and shriveled up!" Kirsty retorted.

This was met with a backhanded slap to her face. "Better watch your pretty little mouth, girl!"

Kirsty just snorted, blood running down her nose and lips. This only pissed off Frank even more and he lunged at her. The crowd came to join in, prompting the Novitiate to grab her weaponry out of her pocket. It had a rather phallic handle but when detracted, it emitted a razor blade chain resembling a spine. She lashed it out at the rowdy onlookers, warding most of them away, but fighting off the rest of them. She struck the whip at Frank with as much force as she could muster. It didn't bother him, but he turned his aggression over to her. In a wrestle for power, she couldn't find the figurine. She looked up and seen that Kirsty already snatched it from him.

"Hey, fucker!" Shouted Kirsty, who waved the statue in his view.

Frank's face dropped as he let go of the cenobite, struggling to catch her breath.

She then threw it on the floor, smashing it into a thousand tiny little fragments.

"YOU LITTLE BITCHES!" The now clearly enraged Frank charged at the two.

The novice cenobite readied her razor spine whip for another strike...

Suddenly, hooks appeared out of nowhere, embedding themselves into his skinless, leather clad corpse.

The Hell Priest teleported out of nowhere.

"Francis Eugene Cotton, you are hereby charged with impersonating a cenobite, leading astray an impervious amount of our denizens, attempted murder, attempted rape, disorderly mental imprisonment, unlawful usurpation, imposing your own will over that of Leviathan's, and last, but not least, disturbing the peace. Your punishment is eternal stone encasement. What do have to say for yourself?"

He simply smirked as he flashed an obscene gesture at the two women before the hooks shredded his flesh once again.

Xipe Totec turned to the crowd.

"You will soon be answering to Leviathan about your aiding this _man_. I suggest you dissipate now and recant, before your punishments become much worse!" He warned them.

He turned to the women.

"Are the both of you harmed any?"

"Shaken up, but perfectly fine." Stated the Novitiate.

"I'm alright." Kirsty answered.

"Good."

He teleported them off of the stage back to their quarters for medical attention.

With one last attentive gaze at the human known as Kirsty Cotton, Leviathan knew that He was right to allow Kirsty to drift in and out of Hell as she desired.

She will amount to greatness indeed, for as long as she stood by Him and His favored son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like it? Leave a comment below and tell me what you think!


	6. Satan Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elliott Spencer gets the limelight.

**Satan Prayer -** _(noun)_ A solemn request for help or expression of thanks addressed to Satan or an object of unholy worship.

* * *

_Believe in one God do we_

_Satan almighty_

Captain Elliott William Spencer was not really a fervent believer in God, Satan, demons, Angels, the like. To him, there was no reason to pray for something you couldn't attain yourself...

But some higher power did exist, and it _did not like him at all_. Was it the killing of innocents? Was it leading the platoon to their demise? With him as the only survivor? The reinforcement of manliness and war?

_"C'mon son, man up!"_ He once harshly scolded a scared young man, who was clearly unfit for _any_ war, let alone this one.

A couple weeks later, that same young man would be rolled back to him lying on a metal slab table for identification. It was there he knew, he could not take his own advice, or even keep his lunch in his stomach.

_The uncreator of heaven and soil_

_And the invisible and the visible_

His life back at his hometown was no better either. He had heard word that his wife, Corrine, had finally succumbed to her melancholy, three months after they both had to bury their infant daughter Virginia Isabelle, who was lost to the Spanish flu.

He could not partake in his own wife's burial. Why? Because he was millions of miles away, as it was too much, too painful for him to bear two losses in a single year.

For one time, he decided to go to church.

It did not end well.

_"The lord works in mysterious ways."_ A priest once told him.

_"Like what? Inflict massive amounts of anguish on us? I don't find it mysterious at all. In fact, I find it fucking sadistic is what I see!"_ Elliott sniped.

He tried to sleep that night. His dreams were those of mutilated bodies screaming for him, both enemy and ally, with him being forced to leave them behind, rotting in their own waste.

A large rhombus flashed before him. It's insufficient light blared upon him, taunting him with images of the war, the gruesome deaths of his fellow soldiers, the numerous people he was ordered to kill, images of his depressed wife Corrine, and Ginny.

"What do you want from me?" Elliott howled in a breakdown.

He woke up in sweats. It was morning.

_Shit_. He thought to himself.

_And in his son begotten of father_

_By whom all things will be unmade_

Even the most simplest of the pleasures of life did not phase him. It was as if something in him depleted and burned out entirely. Even going to a gentleman's club couldn't, do anything for him. That night, he had contemplated joining Corrine in whatever afterlife she was in.

He was asleep again. No mutilated bodies this time, and thankfully, no evil rhombus. However, there was something strange in their stead. A South American stone statue. Its eyes were closed and its mouth gaping wide open, wearing a lumpy tunic and elaborate sandals. Only a couple things were off. It had a black leather skirt draped around its waist, in its hand was a long chain with a hook at the end, and crudely hammered metal pins adorned its face.

Elliott took a few steps closer to examine the statue's foreign additions.

Suddenly, the statue opened its eyes, emitting a void like darkness. A deep rattling howl escaped its mouth.

"ELLIOTT!" Boomed the effigy. It had a rather authoritarian monotone voice.

Elliott slowly backed away.

"COME HERE YOU FUCKING COWARD!" The statue roared.

He tried to run, but he was stopped when hooks coming out of nowhere, had been embedding themselves onto his back, legs, and hands. He screamed in pain.

"NOW THAT I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION... TOGETHER, WE SHALL BECOME ONE!"

"But I'm straight.." Elliott was confused. Become one with _that?_

_"YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT, SPENCER!"_ The idol snapped.

"Wh... Why me?" Elliott asked.

"BECAUSE YOU ARE THE REINCARNATION OF MY SOUL!" It answered.

Now Elliott was confused. The statue sensed this and elaborated.

"EONS AGO, I WAS THE VERY FIRST MAN MADE BY LEVIATHAN HIMSELF. MY TRUE NAME IS LOST TO THE VESTIGES OF TIME, BUT YOU MAY CALL ME AS XIPE TOTEC. I HAD A LOVER BY MY SIDE, REFERRED TO AS XILONEN. WE WERE CONNECTED BODY, FLAME, AND SOUL. THEN, SHE WAS STRUCK DOWN, SHE TOOK MY SOUL WITH HER, KILLING HER, BEING MADE TO SUFFER EVERY LIFETIME IN MISERY, HER SOUL SEPARATE FROM THE FLAME THAT IS HER! I HAVE ABSORBED ENOUGH SOULS TO MANIFEST MYSELF PHYSICALLY, UNTIL NOW, I HAD BEEN UNABLE TO LOCATE MY SOUL."

"What's in it for me?" Elliott asked, still skeptical of Xipe's offer.

"ALL OF YOUR DESIRES SHALL COME TRUE!"

"What do you know about my desires?"

"I KNOW ABOUT CORRINE. THE LOVE THAT YOU TWO SHARED."

Elliott felt like he was about to cry. Xipe Totec continued.

"SHE WAS THE SOUL REINCARNATION OF XILONEN. YOU WILL GET HER BACK IN ANOTHER LIFE, AND I WILL GET MY XILONEN! OPEN THE LAMENT CONFIGURATION AND WE WILL BECOME ONE!"

"Wait! What exactly _is_ the Lament Configuration?" He cried, but the stone effigy was already fading out of view.

Elliott woke up again. No night sweats this time. It was still midnight.

_Who for man and his damnation_

_Incarnated rise up from Hell_

What was the point? Assuming that Corrine would be reincarnated and that she was Xilonen's soul, would she be able to remember him? Most likely not. Furthermore, was this Xipe Totec even telling the truth, or just preying on a broken man's vulnerability?

These were the things Elliott took to consideration.

It wasn't like he had anything else to lose by doing this, all of his known relatives were deceased, he was honorably discharged from the military, it was tempting to go search for this so called Lament Configuration. He had to know what he was to look for, and therefore, read up on it. What he found out was that it was a puzzle box designed and made by an 18th century French toy maker named Philip LeMarchand. Tracking the box down was a challenge. He had to look for the right people, the right signs. Almost to the point of obsession. He had struck gold when an occultist told him where the box currently resided.

Traveling by ship to the mysterious Indian lands, currency in hand, he went off to search for the box. He knew it would take more than one simple day to find it, as it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. So after a rest stop and a bowl of curry (and checking to make sure no one was standing behind him, for _their_ sake), he continued his search for the box. When out of nowhere...

"Are you the man they refer to as Elliott Spencer?" A middle aged man with a thick accent called out.

"I'm Elliott Spencer." He answered.

The vendor's lips curled into a smile. "I've been expecting you..." He pulled out a cube shaped item wrapped in purplish black velvet cloth and placed it on the table in front of him. Elliott picked up the cloth covered cube and unwrapped it. Golden bronze color adorned the box. The intricate patterns forming it's shape. By Jove, it was none other than the Lament Configuration!

"How much?" Elliott pulled out his wallet.

"Between you and me, the only price you had to pay for this box was showing up, and you did just that." The vendor vanished right before Elliott's eyes.

Later that night, Elliott examined the puzzle box for a starting point. It felt like hours before he was able to take the first step. After a few more, the box shocked him, forcing him to jerk away by instinct. The box opened itself up. A pale, pinheaded leather clad man emerged from the box.

"Hello Elliott..." Xipe Totec sneered as he grabbed ahold of the man in front of him, dragging him down, never to let go...

_From sitteth on the left hand of his father_

_From thence he shall come to judge_

A seeming eternity of relentless torture had befallen Elliott, driving him to sensations never before experienced in his lifetime. Before this, he had thought he had experienced it all, that the war had taken every bit of feeling out of him. Oh, how he underestimated the tortures of Hell and its... Denizens. Calling these beings demons felt strange, as they were not like the traditional ones one would see in all the Renaissance paintings, nor the devilish looking creatures as depicted in the Bible, nor were they the uncanny creatures of the Ars Goetia.

What they did look like were just people like him. People with paled complexions, clad in the blackest black garments, their heads bereft of any hair, their voices distorted by possession, their eyes, it was like looking into the void, and the void itself glaring right back. Cenobites, they were called. Just like a member of a religious order, except their God was Leviathan, and their prayer was pain.

Every sense of fear, shock, sensitivity, the like, it was being shaved away until nothing but detachment was left.

"Quite impressive. You will be made a Hell Priest of yet." Xipe Totec praised Elliott as if he was a lowly dog.

He certainly was tethered up like one, naked except for limb bindings and a chastity cage locking up his genitals.

He said nothing.

_Out of one substance with Satan_

_Whose kingdom shall haveth no end_

After much training and agony, Xipe Totec and Elliott Spencer were finally one being. To Xipe, it was finally good to have his soul back, with a physique to boot. On the other hand, his human side imposed a lot of restraint, which was beneficial whenever he would be in a situation where someone wants to fight him dirty and tries to insult him, but when he wants to get down to the nitty gritty, this would pose a lot of problems. He even wondered if he fused with the man too soon...

Damn it.

Damn it all to the nth level of Hell.

But he had to make do with his human temperament, if he wanted any chance of getting his beloved Xilonen back.

But for now, he had much more important matters to attend to, such as usurpation of the Hell Pope mantle, previously occupied as the one known as the Imperator.

"You will suffer for nothing!" The Imperator balked defiantly.

"Your time as the Black Pope has come to an ungraceful end, Imperator. I shall miss your guidance. But I trust that the teachings you bestowed upon me shall be retained in kind."

The killing blow was dealt upon. He is now the new Hell Priest.

_Hear our Satan prayer, o_ _ur anti-Nicene creed_

_Hear our Satan prayer for the coming of seed_

_Hear our Satan prayer,_ _our anti-Nicene creed_

_Hear our Satan prayer for the coming of seed_

Much experience at the helm of the Hell Priest mantle had sobered the demon part of him. It was times like this that he was grateful that his human side was the way he was. Being called Pinhead by the masses, both human and not had irked the being. His human side pointed out that yes, he did, in fact have pins on his head, but it was the condescension in that nickname that irritated him to no end. Over the years, all the anger associated with the nickname had dimmed into a mere eye roll. He still found it unflattering, but it was more of an annoyance rather than anything else.

He had had many different female lovers over the time, both human and cenobite. But they were not the same as Xilonen or Corrine. They could not even compare to her. He missed her like crazy. His final relationship was with the once-Sister Nikoletta, now turned Hell Superior. She initiated the end of it, because, she stated, her desires do not lie with males.

That was perfectly fine by him.

_By all means, go forth and find your true desire._ He told her.

He was now free to track down the soul and flame of Xilonen's latest lifetime.

_Unholy ghost, overlord_

_And taker of life_

Using his near limitless powers and means, he tracked by hook and by crook down the very essence of her. Her. The one he tried and failed time and time again to, and is still trying to, bring back.

Xilonen...

She was his equal, his other half, his twin flame, his soulmate, his, well, everything. Every single time, she always slipped away for one reason or the other. Sometimes her flame and her soul were separate beings, sometimes one. Then that wretched tragedy happened. She was struck down by force. Her flame and soul were separated, doomed to live each life in pain and misery she was forbidden to enjoy. His own soul was ripped away from him, also made to suffer unenjoyably.

Those sadistic fucks!

No life seemed to remember him, or what they shared, which is to be expected, but the sting was more than what he could comprehend. One day, just one day, they will be together again in some form. He just needed to be patient.

One day would change that.

Forever...

He finally found her.

_Hear our Satan prayer,_ _our anti-Nicene creed_

_Hear our Satan prayer for the coming of seed_

_Hear our Satan prayer, our_ _anti-Nicene creed_

_Hear our Satan prayer for the coming of seed_

_Hear our Satan prayer, our_ _anti-Nicene creed_

_Hear our Satan prayer for the coming of seed_

_Hear our Satan prayer,_ _our anti-Nicene creed_

_Hear our Satan prayer_

He sifted through the files. They were not that hard to find, all he had to do was go incognito as a nurse and simply ask for the filing cabinet. It took a while to go through, but he finally had what he was looking for.

A baby girl. Born at the Scarlett Hospital on the 4:30 AM of June 19, 1968. Her home address was 55 Ludovico Place, Cricklewood, London, England. Born an only child to a very recently married couple: Laurence Edward Cotton IV, and Adrienne Rosemarie Singer.

He could not help but feel an inflated sense of coming closer to his intended goal.

He now was on a new mission.

_God may work in mysterious ways,_ He thought to himself, _But so does Leviathan..._


	7. Death Knell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pinhead and Kirsty get it on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Get ready for this one 'cause it's gonna be marked (18+)

**Death Knell -** _(noun)_ The tolling of a bell to mark someone's death or to refer to the imminent destruction or failure of something.

* * *

_Say, can you see the cross?_

_Inverted solemnly_

Kirsty was all splayed out before him. Her ivory silk nightgown, the only layer of clothing she wore, clung to her figure. The fabric pooled around as if it were an almost opaque layer of smoke, fog or mist eternal. Her hair, while not exactly straightened out, but not as curly as it was in her youth, rested on her back, chest and shoulders. Her face, while endured of a life of pain and tragedy, remains untarnished by time itself. If she were not a human comprised of skin, tissue, blood and bone, held together by sinew, bound by a soul, she would be the very epitome of lust, temptation and desire.

At the very least, those were of his thoughts. But seeing her now, willingly submitting to him, was that an opportunity he could not refuse. He briefly unhooked the flaps of cut skin from the hooks on the bare skin, as well as removing the hook from his navel in order to untangle the accursed leather cassock from his body. She could see his physique very clearly. He was fit for someone his age, not exactly muscular, but still athletic. After rehooking the severed skin flaps as they were, he tossed the garment to the side and removed his boots. Underneath all of that, there were no pants, surprising her. Instead, she saw on him what looked to be, some sort of chastity belt, which trapped his genitals within.

"Would you like some help with that?" Kirsty asked.

"Gladly. This infernal contraption usually takes two people to take apart, but somehow, once I put it back on, I have no problem doing so myself." He grumbled.

She raised an eyebrow in confusion. He quickly changed the subject.

"Here, you hold down this end as I unscrew the bolt holding it together." He informed.

She did he instructed, and within seconds, the belt had come undone, freeing his pierced, swollen, engorged member.

"This is what you do to me throughout all these years, Kirsty." He referred to his erection.

_A symbol for the goat_

_Of a thousand young_

"Remove your gown." Xipe Totec firmly commanded.

Kirsty did as she was told and slid out of her nightdress, discarding it onto the floor, where it lay in a pile.

He reached out for her hand, that of which she acquiesced willingly. He took her hand in his own and brought it over to his shaft. He guided her movements, stroking him up and down. Precum dripped out of the tip of his cock on to her hand. She gave it a few good strokes and a good squeeze, causing more precum to seep out. He groaned and rolled his eyes to the back of his head as all of this was happening. It felt so good to have her pleasure him like this.

"Take it in your mouth." He urged, choking on his own breath.

She did just that. He groaned as she readjusted his piercings for better access. She gingerly licked the tip of his dick before easing him into her mouth. Her head bobbed up and down fellating him, sucking him down. With heavy breathing, he tried so hard to retain his composure, and for the most part, he succeeded, but a few deep throated groans escaped him. She felt his phallus pulse within her mouth as he shot more precum.

He suddenly withdrew from her mouth.

Pinhead grabbed her chin. "Inflict some pain upon me, girl!" He growled.

"Then go stand in the corner, boy!" She commanded to him back with some sass.

He walked over to the corner of the room. He thought to himself about how far the both of them had come. The first time he met her, she was a barely twenty, let alone twenty something youth groveling for him and the rest of his gash to spare her soul, bargaining for a relative who had experienced Hell before and escaped. He had admitted that he got a little too carried away when he tried to take her the first time, it ended up with all of them getting desummoned. Oh well, they didn't leave empty handed, and she did appear again, so no big loss.

Kirsty took advantage of his mental distraction and struck him hard with the implement she had, surprising him. "Who you thinking about?"

"The many ways I would inflict pain and pleasure upon you..." He crooned.

She smirked as she thrashed him on the ass, sides, back, and arms. With each lash of the leather strip, flesh was cut, blood was drawn, and yet, he was only further away form the kind of arousal he preferred. She growled as she flogged him even harder, causing him the pain that he desired. He felt a hot throbbing within his loins as he caught another strike from the piece of leather, only this time, with his hands.

_Six, six, six,_ _Evoke the king of Hell_

_Strike the death knell,_ _death knell, death knell, death knell..._

"It is my turn to pleasure you now." He stated, extracting the strap from her hands.

The Hell Priest adjusted her to lay on her bare back on the silk bed. He then crawled on top of Kirsty. Massaging the inner part of her thighs, as well as her biceps, stomach and breasts. To her, it felt good, but he was just getting started. He captured her lips with a kiss, pressing his pierced tongue against hers. She returned the favor by pressing back against his mouth with her own. Pinhead pulled away for a moment, leaving her confused.

He took another good look at her face before lowering his head further towards the lower part of her body. She felt his tongue glide along her clit, massaging it. Her eyes almost rolled into the back of her head as she was feeling vibrations throughout her body. She was becoming wet enough, certainly. Sucking on her clit left something to be desired. The nails on his head were of no bother to her, as they had not been since the first time they both made bodily contact. However, one thing stood.

As with so much effort as he put, he was nowhere near getting her aroused.

"C'mon, pull out some of your hooks or something..." She whined in frustration.

In accordance with her request, Pinhead extracted a sharp hook from his discarded toolbelt and drug it harshly across her flesh, drawing blood.

"Is that all?" She dared, shivering in pleasurable anticipation.

That same hook pierced the flesh on her outer thigh. Kirsty moaned in pain, but it finally did the trick, because now she was now clearly aroused.

"And this is what you do to _me_ , Xipe Totec." Kirsty stated in response to his earlier statement.

_Say, can you hear the chimes?_

_Tolls now for the end_

Kirsty saw stars as he eased himself into her. The slickness helped plenty with the entrance. Within only minutes, he started thrusting into her. The friction was mindblowingly exhilarating. The Hell Priest was losing it a bit himself. The feeling of electricity was coursing through their whole beings with every thrust, every roll of the hips, every arching of the back, just, everything.

He suddenly pulled out, leaving her voided and unsatisfied.

That was, until he turned her over. He was nudging her onto her hands and knees before reentering her.

"I relish this moment for all time, Kirsty. I certainly hope you do too." He whispered in her ear.

"Oh, I definitely do." She replied.

"Good." He crooned again.

The thrusting went faster, rocking and grinding against bodies. She wrapped her legs around his waist for easier, much more deeper access. Beads of sweat glittered all over her torso, soaking into the covers and his own marred skin, intermingling with perspiration of his own.

"Ah, fuck!" She mewled.

_Bells call out for doom_

_As victor reaches womb_

She rocked her hips as the thrusting continued.

"So eager for your release?" Pinhead quipped.

"Mmhm..." Kirsty mewled.

He grinned as have another hard thrust, leaving her to gasp in euphoria. The feeling of going in deeper was insatiable. He was brutal, but that was to be expected for a... Man of his profession.

If, in 1987, a psychic told her that she would be screwing the Black Pope of Hell, and enjoying it, she would be wondering what they would be smoking, and yet, there she was then and there. No doubt about it, the past Kirsty would keel over in shock to see her older self in bed, let alone a relationship with him. But alas, life does not follow society's view of what _should_ be.

Ever since the first fuck, no man on earth has ever been able to meet the standards of her lustful, wanton desires like the Hell Priest has.

Her musings were interrupted by another thrust.

"Distracted now, are we?" The Cold Man snarked.

She simply moaned in pleasure.

_Sex, sex, sex_

_Recieve the beast of evil,_ _of evil_

He grabbed one of her legs and hoisted it over his shoulder. She was now resting on her side, but he wasn't done just yet. He whispered in her ear again.

"Do you desire for more? I too, am desiring to go even _further_." He proclaimed.

Those few words stirred something fierce in the pit of Kirsty's stomach.

"Give it to me, baby!" Kirsty begged.

What culminated was the pounding of a lifetime, followed by his fondling of her breasts and ass. She felt another severe stab piercing the flesh on her outer thigh, driving her to near hallucinatory pleasure. Every time she felt that she would reach her orgasmic frenzy, she kept being pulled back in in a way that didn't tire or bore and make her come begging for more. That was the unique appeal of her infernal lover. Looking into his dark void filled eyes, she had observed the painful tragedies of a human man as well as the pleasurable carnal triumphs of a deity personified.

He returned the lascivious gaze back to her. For _far too damned_ long, at least, in his mind, she had been overshadowed by the chauvinistic expectations of a "pure, innocent, plain Jane" ingenue, when in in fact, she was anything but. Oh, if they only knew what really went on behind closed doors, mainly involving her wretched asshat of an uncle. With what happened to her, she should have been repulsed by the idea of sex! And yet, the meetings just keep on happening. It was no secret about the relationship, just that no one dared utter a word about it, lest they face his wrath, of course.

With all thoughts aside, he focused on exchanging high pleasure.

_Can you say his name?_

_Carrier of the light_

"Say my name, Kirsty." He ordered.

"Wh-which one?" She asked in between

"It matters not... For as long as you do not call me Pinhead, or you will be denied your climax."

She giggled at that one.

"I _am_ serious about that."

"Well, you do have pins on your head." She said in between laughs.

"Maybe I should make you beg for your release, then." He smirked.

She jokingly stuck her tongue out at him. Then she thought of something...

"Do you use those pins on your head to sew your duster together if it has a rip or something?" She teased.

"Maybe, but now, you must ask for permission to climax." He smugly answered.

_Legions of his seed_

_A child you as spouse will feed_

"Please! Xipe Totec, Make me cum, please!" She cried out.

He looked her in the eyes as he slowly and agonizingly, rocked his hips against hers for the ultimate peak.

"You and I are one... We belong with each other and no one else... Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, Limbo, Earth, they will all know about it... No man or woman will ever dare harm you or even look at you the wrong way again..." In between pants, he chanted this like a gospel.

Kirsty simply moaned in ecstasy.

"You shall bear my child-"

"Yes..."

"Your thoughts shall be of me, and me _only_ -"

"Yes!"

"And you shall know no other man's touch but mine!"

" _YES!_ "

_S-A-T-A-N,_ _Under spell,_ _Of the death knell_

_Death knell, death knell, death knell_

The audial hallucinatory ringing was heard in her ears as she reached her climax. Dragging her nails down his back as he kept thrusting for his own release...

Another climax. Then another. He growled as he reached his own peak.

After a while, the heat from this tumultuous tryst had dissipated, leaving only a light chill and something to be desired. Kirsty decided to break the long, awkward silence.

"So, um, will I be having the antichrist, or..?" Kirsty asked partially jokingly, letting the question hang. Pinhead lightly chuckled.

"You've been watching far too much Omen, Kirsty." He answered in jest, to which she chuckled a little herself.

He continued. "I am not Satan, I am merely a Priest of Hell. You are very good in bed, but that alone does not make for a feral _canis aureus_. They will be perfectly fine, the child. In fact, whether they desire for Hell will be their decision alone."

She nodded absently as peaceful slumber overtook her senses as she gave in to the exhaustion and drifted off. He slowly but surely slid out of the bed to go get dressed. He refastened and reassembled his metal chastity cage, donned his boots, and rehooked the flaps of skin before putting his leather duster back on. Taking one last longful gaze at her sleeping form, he soon entered the portal, departing back to Hell.

Over the times, he had grown to admire her as herself and who she was now, rather than who she used to be in lives since past before. Kirsty was her own brand of human being and he realized that now.

He was under spell of her death knell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you like it? Write it down in the reviews!
> 
> -Sister Jex Corvus


	8. Prime Mover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kirsty is is preggers with the Hell Spawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This fic will definitely tie into a possible 2nd fanfic called Hellraiser: Infestissumam if you are interested, pm me.
> 
> TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: Child loss, Mention of abortion, Creepy uncle trope.

**Prime Mover \- **_(noun)_ A person or establishment that is chiefly responsible for the creation or execution of a plan or project. An initial natural or mechanical source of motive power.

* * *

_Clad in cloak,_ _Secretive nun_

_Bearing the Old One's bastard son_

It was five o'clock AM and Kirsty felt another kick from her womb. She was about five months along now and it wasn't getting any easier for her. The child within her had been very active as of late.

Those five months she had been away from him. It was like a deep void had been left within her. She longed for his touch, his monotone, but comforting voice, imploring the sweetest of absolute nothings.

God dammit.

This wasn't supposed to be this way. She was not supposed to be melancholy over a man like Julia was. She was supposed to be strong willed, like she always was. She had learned a long time ago that relying on a man would only bring a total letdown. She never _ever_ needed a man to make her feel whole. She learned that at the age of twelve, when her own daddy couldn't be arsed to pay more than an hour towards her. He was a good ol' boy who never focused on feelings, so she couldn't blame him completely. That was the job of her mother, and when she was murdered, he didn't know what to do except make his delicious hamburger pie, the only thing he was good at cooking.

Then came her first boyfriend Steve. He was charming, funny, anything and everything you would want in a perfect boyfriend. As far as she was concerned then, she had already mentally planned their white wedding, the white picked fence, how many babies she would give him, the entire nine yards. The thing was, he never knew about her past pains, aside from her mother's death, but even then. He certainly showed he her how much he could handle when he just left her in the Channard Institute without another word. Fuck him, she hadn't a damn thing to say to him.

Kyle McRae was nicer, more compassionate and understanding, despite working for a sociopathic doctor. But he was more like a band aid on a burn wound than anything, really. The second he fell to Julia's charm and hand, she knew she had to do everything herself, she only had to also worry about a young girl, known only as Tiffany.

But Pinhead, as she jokingly referred to him as in his absence, despite his protests, as well as the rest of his Gash. They all held down the fort as they battled the cenobitified Dr. Channard to their bitter ends. All to protect them both. She would apologize to all four of them profusely from then on, even though none of them regretted their choices.

_Oh no,_ she thought. The hormones were acting up again as tears poured down her face.

As for Tiffany herself, even after she was adopted, they maintained contact. One time, in the few times she had the courage to speak, mainly to her, she confessed about her crush on Kirsty. That was perfectly fine by her. Unfortunately, it was short lived as the communication slowly but surely waned until she came across her obituary in the paper. One of the victims of a serial killer known as the Engineer.

After that was just one night stands from then on until Trevor entered her life stage right.

Trevor Gooden. He was a man she would rather _forget_ about. Their marriage was already in shambles even though she hadn't quite realized it yet at the time, but the work she did in an attempt to preserve what she once vowed was one sided. But when an old family attorney notified that she received an inheritance from both her father and her uncle, it was like a switch flipped within him.

A harder kick from the baby jolted her into the present as she realized she had to go pee. Again.

"You gotta be kidding me." She whispered to the unborn baby as she made another trip to the toilet.

_A varicose phallus obsessed an' poised her_

_Cast a veil of dusk upon the cloister_

She could remember every single detail of that night like it was yesterday. It all started with one of their sex sessions. His thick, veiny, throbbing cock leaking semen, much to her excitement. Not only that, that same cock grinding against her inner walls, driving her to an ecstatic orgasm before coming inside of her. She would fall asleep right next to him. When he departed back to Hell, it was like he had taken a part of her with him, and left a part of himself with her.

Her heart fluttered in her chest whenever her thoughts drifted there.

The signs were normal enough. Only some fatigue, morning sickness, and a missed period. She bought one of those take home tests just to make sure. Just as was promised, she had become pregnant with his hellspawn.

His. Child.

Kirsty would be lying if she claimed to have no anxieties about the pregnancy.

Truth be told, this wasn't the first time she had been pregnant with anyone's child. The very first time, she told her father that she was gonna go on a field trip with friends for a couple days, when in fact, she was going to a nearby clinic. As he was busy planning his honeymoon with Julia, he never even noticed. Or even bothered to find out later that his brother basically trapped her in the church basement literally minutes after the "I do's". The aftermath of the procedure, she felt nothing but relief, but no one ever knew.

Years later, the one night stands brought temporary consolation that she was fuckable, at least in her mind. She had always had protection at hand, so it was near impossible to have another accident. Emphasis on _near_. As in one day, she had taken all the necessary precautions and it _still_ happened. The result was the very first child to come from her genes, Adam Laurence Cotton.

Adam was a small, feeble one. A cruel trick from whomever was up above, if there was such one. For six months, he was a healthy, smiling, babbly little thing. No signs, no warnings, nothing. One night, he simply closed his eyes and never woke back up again. The nights were filled with stricken grief after that. With time, it gradually faded into the back of her mind.

Then came the twins Kyle Elliott and Theo Rory Gooden. The way she had seen it, they never even had a chance. It started out as a healthy pregnancy. Both she and Trevor we're excited about this time, as there hadn't seemed to be any bad omens. Everything was near perfect.

Or so it was thought.

In the middle of the night, she woke up for a glass of water. She hadn't noticed the red spot on her pants until it started growing and expanding, until she slipped and fell, not injuring herself, but that, coupled with gradually feeling extremely faint to the point of passing out and heavy, painful cramping warranted a trip to the emergency room. And the blood, oh god, the blood. They both wept for the loss, but unfortunately, that was the last time Trevor showed _any_ type of concern for her.

After the losses of Adam, Kyle, and Theo, Kirsty never thought that she would ever have a living child. Well, not until now. But even then, she lives in fear for making the wrong move.

_Prime Mover,_ _Maternal slave_

_With child of her grave_

Kirsty jolted awake from another nightmare. It was so surreal. She was about to go into labor and she was bleeding heavily, like the child was clawing its way out of her.

After catching her breath, she turned on her side to look at her alarm clock.

It was 4:30 AM.

"Shit! Again?" She cussed herself out.

Ever since she found out that she had a child growing within her, these nightmares increased tenfold, and had become progressively more intense the later the trimester. Waking life was no more merciful. Intrusive thoughts about bygone times memoriam invaded her mind as of late. She knew that something had to be done about the stress surrounding her thoughts. She hated being told that she was not alone because she truly was. That is, unless _they_ went through literal Hell with Cenobites too. But she dare not say so, in fear of being locked up yet again with another tyrannical doctor.

She felt another kick.

"Alright.." She sighed as she made a trip to the kitchen.

After a moment with some birthday cake ice cream, some fried mushrooms, and V8 juice, she decided on some changes that absolutely had to happen in her life if she was to do right by the child.

For starters, making a family photo album, which would take extensive research, but it would be a chance to find out where she came from. Also, find out if she has any cousins or extended relatives from her mother's side, and potentially reach out to them. Definitely, she would purchase a few diaries, because if there's any nonjudgmental form of getting things off of her chest, it's a diary. Be on the lookout for a support system was the next thing on her list.

For once in the entirety of her life, she felt a sense of hope, energy to go on, not that it wasn't there before, but still, things seemed to look up. The wave of euphoria washed over her like a tidal wave.

Of course, all of these things would have to wait until morning, as Kirsty felt tiredness take over herself once again.

_Mother, filth in her womb_

_Father, waiting in tomb_

_Sathanas,_ _Anti-Christ,_ _Spiritus non sancti_

The rest of the night went without interruption.

Morning appeared with the sun shining brightly upon Kirsty. She sat down to meditate, closing her eyes, letting her thoughts all melt away and letting peace and quiet overtake her senses...

All of a sudden, she was startled awake by her television turning on out of nowhere. What was playing just happened to be a history segment on Aztec mythology. Those few seconds were littered with elaboration on the flayed God Xipe Totec.

"The fuck do you want now?" Kirsty blared, clearly annoyed.

Years earlier, she would've thought that signs like that one, such as number patterns, colors, and such were just mere coincidences, but she knew better now.

" _Now now Kirsty. That is no way to talk to the father of you child._ " A certain familiar voice chastised. He continued. " _You manifested a desire for my presence, so here I am._ "

"But I don't have the box."

" _You don't need the box. You have left your imprint upon the barriers between Hell and Earth. I have not answered your call earlier, as I had... Other matters to attend to._ "

She mentally cursed for emotionally immersing herself hook, line and sinker. He knew how to say the right things at the right times. He pushed every button to see what made her tick.

" _Stand up, close your eyes and you'll sense my presence._ " He urged.

Kirsty did as she was told and the atmosphere changed drastically to a cold energy. As if she were freezing, but yet, she wasn't. The familiar murky warmth in the form of a masculine, but yet unisex figue enveloped her own. The cold metal grazed her forehead, leaving her excited and mentally begging for more of his touch. The baby kicked in protest.

" _I see the little one has quite the spirit._ "

His essence soon faded, leaving her in her living room again. When she opened her eyes, she had the tv remote in her hand.

_Selected heir,_ _Machinery insect_

_The bloodline of the dark architect_

It was a very hectic couple of weeks afterward with the baby continually growing...

She bought a large photo album to put the pictures in her possession. As predicted, it was a lot of work looking for the records of her bloodline reaching as far back as possible. Though she managed to find a few interesting tidbits, such as a distant relation to the LeMarchands.

It was very exciting to list each ancestor and put their pictures in the album. By the time it was her family's turn for their pictures, it felt like having to endure painful memories again. Not her grandfather, as he passed before she was born, but her grandmother, whom she felt cared more about her younger son's (Kirsty's uncle) feelings rather than her safety, which made her sick to her stomach.

She hadn't looked at any photos of her mother or father since their passing. What would she be able to say to them? She felt like she failed their legacies in a way. It was true, Kirsty was not to blame for their deaths, but the life choices she made? She was ashamed enough as it is. Another thing was, she had contemplated whether or not to include photos from her father's second wedding.

Speaking of which, her maternal relatives were so few. Both grandparents were passed in her mother's youth. She had only one granduncle and grandaunt, also both passed, from there, she had only two first cousins, one was passed, unmarried with no children, and another had one son, both disappeared without a trace years ago, and frankly, a dead end. That ended there.

After that, Kirsty searched for her lost cousins. Frank was a man who slept around, with no intention of starting a family, so she knew that there had to more than one. Despite her lowest opinion of him, hopefully this wasn't the case for any potential cousins. Sure enough, she found four of them. One man, three women. Their names were Leslie Dan, Bridgette, Vicky, and Rajani.

Leslie Dan came first. Until he was found out to have a lengthy criminal record, Kirsty had some hope that there would be something, especially since he had kids, but it was not to be. The crimes he was convicted of, she didn't want that around her baby. Okay, next up was Bridgette. Unmarried and no children. Lived in the ghettos. That was fine, Kirsty was never one to judge appearances. There was only one problem though. Bridgette died a couple years before in a car accident. There was even a photo of her grave. Dammit.

Then it was Vicky's turn. She had a family of her own, no criminal record, seemed to have it all together. Kirsty gave her a call in order to find out what she was like. Vicky seemed interested the whole time until Kirsty brought up her uncle's name, to which Vicky abruptly hung up on her, only to call back to tell her not to call her again in the rudest voice ever. Fuck her then. Last but not least was Rajani. She was much more genial to Kirsty when she called her. A very spiritual woman she was, and very welcoming too. There was no ifs ands or buts about it. However, Kirsty felt like an outsider and a stranger. More underwhelming than what she expected. This was clearly going nowhere.

At least she had the option of finding a support group.

_Toxic blood of not known birth_

_Anti-Christ will walk the earth_

Kirsty was now seven months along. At any moment, she felt like she could burst.

The hormones were coming in full force. She felt as if she was all alone in this world. Not only that, but once she was gone, her child will face the weight of the world all alone as well. The baby wasn't even born yet and she already felt like she failed them.

She felt like she was in... Hell?

No, not Hell. She knows the inner workings of Hell, it was not Hell. Purgatory? Limbo? Absolutely not, this was much, much worse. It was more along the lines of a mental, figurative prison she had yet to break out of, if at all.

As she stood up from her chair, she felt a chill from the pit of her pants, as if it were a wet stain. She turned around and seen red.

Lots of red.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Fuck! _FUUUUUUUUUUCK_!" Kirsty shouted to absolutely no one.

No! No! No!

This cannot happen again! She had already grieved Adam and Kyle and Theo! Not another one, not again! Not ever, ever again!

The blood stain on her pants kept getting bigger and bigger. Kirsty sprinted in tears out of her apartment, followed by a trail of blood not watching her step until she slipped and hit her head.

An older woman exited her flat room to see what all the commotion was about. Immediately seeing the blood, she phoned the paramedics while staying with her until they took her away.

Kirsty faded in and out of consciousness all the while.

_Our child is still alive..._

Unfortunately, that did not help any, and she drifted into sleep.

_Prime Mover,_ _Maternal slave_

_Prime Mover,_ _Maternal slave_

_With child of her grave_

Kirsty woke up from the blurry depths of unconsciousness. The fluorescent lights blared her vision.

"Ms. Cotton? Are you with us?" A mysterious voice belonging to a woman called.

"Wh-where am I?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

"You're in a hospital." That same voice, revealed to belong to a blonde haired nurse in blue scrubs answered. The nurse continued. "You had quite a fainting spell-"

"My baby! What happened to my baby?" Kirsty panicked.

"Your baby is perfectly fine. She's strong and healthy as ever." The nurse reassured.

"She?"

"Oh yes, we had to find out your baby's gender. Sorry it was gonna be a surprise for you."

"It's alright. I don't care as long as she's okay. Not like I'm ever gonna throw a gender reveal party any time soon. I don't even have any friends." Kirsty chuckled.

"Alrighty then, my name is Ronnie Caulfield. I will be your friend then." The blonde nurse, now named Ronnie chirped.

"Thank you. I needed it badly."

"No problem. If there is absolutely anything you need. I will be here for you twenty four seven. We all need each other." Ronnie assured Kirsty.

Ronnie continued as she pulled out a small piece of paper. "Here's my number if you ever need anything. Even if it's just someone to talk to..."

Kirsty took the paper from her hands. "Thank you." Tears welled up in her eyes as Ronnie gave her a hug.

"Would you like to see a picture of your daughter?" Ronnie asked.

"I'd like that very much." Kirsty answered.

Ronnie pulled out a grainy ultrasound picture, and Kirsty knew then and there that no matter what happens, she will love the baby, and if anything or anyone tries anything stupid, woe behold them.


	9. Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kirsty is transformed into a Cenobite...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This one definitely has a trigger warning on it. Basically, it's the body horror that comes with becoming a Cenobite. 
> 
> TW: Gore and vomit

**Genesis** \- _(noun)_ the origin or mode or formation of something.

* * *

_The Genesis begins..._

Kirsty nervously awaited her transformation all alone in a dark voided room.

After a seeming eternity of never ending torture, of every single possible crossing of boundary between pleasure and pain, she was finally deemed worthy for cenobitification.

_I can do this._ With baited breath, she anticipated her final fate.

The hooks had snagged themselves on her clothes, carrying her away, suspending her in mid air. Kirsty was fearful of what would happen next, but she did not facially express so. A few extra hooks clawed onto her jacket, tearing the not so delicate fabric away, leaving her shirt in tatters. Another hook ripped through the layers of her black floral skirt, reducing it to nothing. A couple more hooks tore off the tattered remains of her red shirt, leaving her in her bra, underwear, torn pantyhose, and boots. Smaller hooks snagged the elastic fabric and peeled it off of Kirsty, while the bigger hooks stripped her boots off. Two large hooks perforated the skin on her shoulders, causing an immense amount of pain. Her bra and underwear were tugged and pulled off of her in one fell final swoop, leaving her exposed to the elements.

With baited breath, she dreaded what was to come next. She felt a searing hot knife sink into the skin of her left foreleg, dragging it across in a horizontal position. It continued until it returned to where the wound was first inflicted. The heated metal then sliced in a long vertical position. Kirsty felt her toenails being quickly yanked off, one by one by one until there were none left. The skin from her foreleg was peeled off as any veins exposed were cauterized. It seemed eternal until the epidermis was severed completely. She watched as the skin dropped to the void, where it exploded into fireworks. She felt the process being repeated on her right foreleg.

Her now skinless feet had been fitted with black wedged sandals. Leather thigh leggings were slid up to her thighs. The hooks on end peeled back the remaining skin; a cilice belt acting as a garter for her left thigh. The straps from the waist garter contained small hooks, which punctured through leather and flesh. She felt piercing needles bite through her genitals, ornate rings soon replacing them. Kirsty was able to breathe a little when she was fitted for underwear. **(A/N: Or should I exclude this and run the risk of people assuming she goes commando in public?)** Her arms were next. Leather gloves, similar to the Hell Priest's, except instead of the pinky and thumb being gloved, it was the index, middle, and ring fingers, started covering up her arms. These gloves reached to the biceps. Barbed wire wrapped around where the elbows were. Smaller hooks sunk only glove deep to reveal her palms side up before two spikes impaled her hands, causing a howl of agony.

The feeling of the hot knife returned with a vengeance. This time though, it was on her back, in a similar way her feet were, red tissue would be exposed with the skin pulled back by tiny hooks. The first layer of her dress slid onto her skin, it was sweetheart shaped, backless with a slit on the left side. The under was pure crimson silk while the over part was black leather, and the top part was a woven pattern. The second layer was an open backed white silk robe. It laced in the front part. A stole was draped over her shoulders, as if it were a priestess vestment, except this one was embroidered with hellish symbols. A black leather crown-like corset wrapped around her middle. A red sash tied around her waist, overlapping the corset and the stole. A piece of her chest skin was pierced as well, to accommodate for a pectorale, or rather, an unholy mockery of one.

The hooks which were snagged to her shoulders slid off, causing her to breath a sigh of relief as the hooks were now hanging to her new vestments. However, a new hook grabbed ahold of her hair, pulling it up, though not enough to actually rip it off. She felt the painfully hot knife along her scalp, cutting into it. Making sure no strand was left untouched, the knife pressed further into the skin, cutting away the epidermal part and severing any snags that held her hair, skull, and tissue together. Soon after, the skin and hair pulled away with ease, dropping into the abyss where it incinerated.

She felt a rather malevolent force take over her body. It wasn't painful, but it was still no better than the physical pain, just as nauseating. Her blood was pumping through her veins at an inhumanly rapid rate. Her adrenaline kicked in, and she started struggling. The memories she managed to suppress were finally coming back to the surface. Her complexion was whitening to a deathly cenobitic pallor. The irises of Kirsty's eyes were darkening to pools of onyx void, and the whites of her teeth were dimming down to a hint of yellow. She felt the hot knife prickle into the skin of her head again, which had apparently regenerated skin, but no hair from her scalping. She felt grid lines being carved into the delicate skin, barely missing her eyes and mouth.

Once it seemed to be over and the knife pulled away, Kirsty opened her eyes to see tentacles holding what looked like to be shiny, golden pins with glittering with deep red garnets. She closed her eyes again, feeling metal stab into the carvings of her head. Kirsty knew that it wasn't done yet. Now, here comes the hard part, embedding those pins into her skull. The appendages taking their sweet time to hammer down each one painfully, breaching each anatomical barrier that would have deemed every pin unacceptable. It was like a penetrating migraine multiplied by a thousand times.

She felt four needles stab into her jugulars. Getting a good look at them, they were attached to surgical tubes. The bottom two were extracting her blood while the top two were injecting a bluish fluid. Kirsty started to feel faint, but at the same time, she couldn't pass out. Not just yet at least.

After what seemed like forever, it was over. The hooks holding her up placed her back down onto the floor gently. Her feet stung as if she were walking on smoldering embers.

Walking over to one of the glass mirrors, Kirsty took a good, long look at her new self. Her human mind had a lot to process, that she knew, but upon gazing at the places where skin and tissue had been peeled apart from one another, bile started rising up that she fought to keep down. A closer inspection revealed how deep the pins embedded in her head were.

"I... I... I... _I..._ " Was all Kirsty could say in an in humane voice before the contents of her stomach spewed out onto the glass monolith.

Everything soon faded away, and she was in her room now, but she still felt queasy.

Outside, the Hell Priest watched the entire event unfold.

"Is there something the matter with her?" He inquired with a hint of concern.

"Just the fevers. Nothing more." Answered his female companion.

_The fevers._ Pinhead repeated internally. Of course, he himself had them when he first came to be. Anyone would be susceptible to them, save for the psychopathic few who enter Hell. In a couple days, they usually clear up, but until then...

_Savor the pain, Kirsty. For it will be the last thing you ever feel now..._ He murmured to her from afar.

_The Genesis has come to pass..._


	10. Here Comes the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirsty reminisces on one of her favorite songs...

Here Comes the Sun \- _(noun)_ A 1969 song by the Beatles. The first song in a long line of a long history of interesting cover choices for Ghost. They often pick songs that are seemingly at odds with their musical style.

* * *

_Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter_

_Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here_

_Here comes the sun,_ _Here comes the sun and I say it's_ _all right_

For as long as Kirsty's memory had served her well, this was her lullaby. A song she could associate with good memories, among others. Whenever she cried, or was in deep sorrow, or even just plain could not sleep, her mother would walk into her room, pull her out of the crib, and later on, her bed, and either sing, or hum that all too familiar melody, and it always did the trick, as she went to sleep like a little angel afterwards.

No matter how old she had gotten, that pattern would never ever change. The routine had always been the same, like clockwork. But there was a single bad memory associated with not singing it all the way...

The last time her mother ever lived, breathed, sang, what have you, was when Kirsty was twelve. The summer of 1980. She and her mother were up all night baking cookies, so she was subconciously trying to fight off sleep, so her mother rocked her to sleep.

The singing paused when Adrienne heard a loud, banging knock on the door.

_"I'll be right back, just hold on."_ Were the last words her mother had told her as she exited Kirsty's bedroom to answer the door, which the giver still banged belligerently against the hard wood.

As the door to Kirsty's bedroom was closed, she could hear mumbled talking. But as a familiar male voice started talking, the mumbling grew louder and louder, with a few bad words thrown into the mix. Little Kirsty gasped. She never knew her mommy to be capable of such potty language.

_BOOM!_

That loud noise startled Kirsty from her deep thought. She heard two men mumbling. Again, her bedroom door was closed, so she could barely hear what they were saying, apart from a few words.

Whatever they were saying, it was along the lines of " _Take some jewelry and make it look like a robbery. All I need is the kid._ "

Hearing that, Kirsty immediately got out of her bed and hid in her closet. She heard a little more mumbling between the two men, and then another loud BOOM! The door opened, and a man wearing dirty jeans and t shirt with the sleeves cut off, but wore a ski mask.

" _Come to daddy, kiddo._ "

Kirsty waited in silence, hoping that he would get bored and leave without finding her. It was all in vain, as he opened the closet door and grabbed her.

" _Naughty, naughty Kirsty. Telling Mommy about our little secret. Tsk, tsk!_ "

That familiar switchblade he always liked to use grazed her face. Kirsty thought it was the end of her for sure. That was until, outside alarm sirens blared so loudly that the whole neighborhood should have heard. Mommy must have called them.

" _This is the Brooklyn Police. We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up!_ "

" _Shit_!"

He finally let go of her and fled out of her bedroom window, forgetting all about her. The aftermath was gruesome. Feathers drifting throughout the place. A bed sheet stained with fresh blood, pooling bigger and bigger. She lifted the she sheet to reveal... Mommy. The sobs emitting from Kirsty's voice were howling, the agonizing wails of a child staring death right in the face for the first time.

Even after the police entered the home, and Daddy came home as soon as possible, the mourning did not stop for a long while...

_Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces_

_Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here_

_Here comes the sun,_ _Here comes the sun and I say it's all right_

A now teenaged, but almost twenty something Kirsty Cotton lie on the creaked old bed, her mind reeling from the events that just transpired, how everything, the rest of her family, her future with Steve, all vanished right before her very eyes. Now here she was, in a mental asylum, blood stains littering her once starch white t shirt. The rain and thunder made obvious by the window she stared blankly into.

"Welcome back." The detective she had been ignoring spoke up.

It was a habit of hers to block out any bad memories and dissociate when something traumatic happens.

Sometimes, she never even realized it.

"Where am I?" Kirsty asked.

"This is the Channard Institute." He answered. "It's a psychiatric hospital."

" _Psychiatric._ " Kirsty repeated to her

"Remember? You and your boyfriend?" The detective asked.

"Steve..." The pangs of hurt from his quiet rejection came back in full force.

"Don't worry about him, he's okay. We sent him home hours ago. He had some story to tell." The detective attempted to humor Kirsty, but there was no cheering her up.

"Who the fuck are you?" Kirsty spat out bitterly.

"I'm sorry, this job sometimes makes me forget my manners. Ronson. Homicide. I was at your father's house."

The still fresh wounds of Kirsty's grief split back open again. " _Oh, Daddy.._ "

Ronson realized that he hit a nerve, so to speak. "Shit. Would you talk to me? And please, this time, no demons, fairy tales, huh?"

"Fairy tales?" Kirsty parroted the last word as a question.

"Fairy tales." Ronson repeated back to her.

"My father didn't believe in fairy tales either." She lamented.

Now Ronson was confused. "What?"

Kirsty continued. "Some of them come true, Mr. Ronson, even the bad ones..."

"I'm sorry. I, er... I don't understand."

"Do you have a family, Mr. Ronson?" She asked.

"Yes." He answered before he was abruptly interrupted by a phone call. Not that it mattered though. What little was left of her naivety had died with Frank, Julia and her father.

She was the only one left alive to pick up the pieces. The question was, where will she go from there? Was it a mistake to not let these puzzle box... Demons take her when they had the chance? She, at the very least, wouldn't be in this position to begin with. Well, she had to wait and see what happens next...

_Sun, sun, sun, here it comes,_ _Sun, sun, sun, here it comes_

_Sun, sun, sun, here it comes,_ _Sun, sun, sun, here it comes_

_Sun, sun, sun, here it comes_

Years passed by, and Kirsty was an adult, and up until recently, happily married to someone she thought was a good man. Sure, they had their highs and lows, but then again, didn't every couple? The "recently" that shattered any illusion of a happy marriage was on the day of their wedding anniversary. His present to her was the accursed puzzle box. He _knew_ that this box brought her bad memories. He _knew_ of her troubled past. He _knew **damn well**_ that she considered this a very sore subject. What does he do? Wrap the damned thing in another box and wrapping paper and guilt trip her into solving it.

For now, she had refused to admit her shortcomings...

"He desired to be rid of you so he could have his grubby hands on _your_ inheritance. Do not deny that he has strayed from you these last few months, Kirsty. I sensed his intentions from the very moment he set foot into the sweatshop." The Priest informed.

"I... I don't believe you!" Kirsty snapped, obviously still in shock.

"He thinks he controls the narrative. He is under delusion that he can conspire with his not very bright acquaintance to have you sent here, under my thrall for eternity while he comes up with a sob story that he _oh_ _so_ had no idea the Lament configuration was so powerful, that it took you. And while you languish here, depleted of all the spirit that you once had in your youth, left with absolutely nothing, _he_ runs off with _your_ rightfully inherited money, all gambled away or given to the nearest prostitute, assuming he will throw the other women under the bus."

She looked at him with such resentment. Resentment in that he was correct, the warning signs were there, no doubt. But she didn't know they were there, or if she did, they were ignored in favor of preserving the lie of her moving on from her dark past. Pinhead certainly knew how to get under her skin, both literally and figurately.

"Or..." The Hell Priest continued. "You could show him his rightful place. Nothing more than than the gore on this floor under our writhing bodies. What do you say, Kirsty Cotton?"

He had one more nerve to hit.

"I'd hate to think you would throw everything away for a man who does not give a damn about you, like Julia once did-"

"YOU DARE SAY THAT?!"

He knew damn well she hated being compared to Julia, that bitch.

"Then show me that you are not worthy of comparison to her.." He crooned. "What's your deal?"

"My husband, his partner in crime, and his three mistresses." He had seen the hardened look on her face. It was one of hatred.

_Perfect..._ He thought to himself. _The lioness had come out of hibernation._

"One of them isn't aware of your existence." He stated. Not that he cared, of course, but he wanted to see if _she_ did.

"And I wasn't aware that the puzzle box contained cenobites the first time." The coldness in her voice was absolute. "And one more thing..."

Kirsty disrobed herself, shedding her wedding anniversary best onto the grimy floor, one by one until she had nothing left of her modesty. The cold atmosphere brushed against her bare skin, hardening her nipples. Pinhead was amused and at the same time, confused. Nonetheless, hooks shot out and embedded themselves into her. Blood beaded out from the wounds, not enough to send her into shock, but just enough for the sake of pain.

"I might as well not give a _fuck_ about Trevor. He's too boring in bed anyways."

Made obvious by the swelling arousal in between her legs, Pinhead knew that Kirsty was telling the truth. He removed the apron of his cassock, lowering the front half, revealing his already erect penis, dripping with precum. He inched ever so closer to her. Her excitement showed, shivering with anticipation as her pin studded paramour approached her ever so inquisitively.

He whispered in her ear. "I am the most important man in your life, Kirsty. Get used to it."

She whispered back. "Gladly..."

The two made love in that timeframe.

_Little darling, I feel that the ice is slowly melting_

_Little darling, it feels like years since it's been clear_

_Here comes the sun,_ _Here comes the sun and I say it's all right_

_Here comes the sun,_ _Here comes the sun and I say it's all right_

Here she is now, with a child of her own, an innocent little soul who has yet to know the pain and suffering of life itself.

"WAAAAAH!" The baby cried throughout the room.

Kirsty was still on high alert after everything that happened leading up to the baby's birth. The adrenaline flowing in her veins was still high, and she hadn't had the time for a mental breakdown yet. It was in no way the baby's fault, that she knew. She should've known that Hell was no place for a pregnant woman such as herself. And now because _she's_ stressed, the baby is too. She quickly prepared some formula and ran to the still crying baby's room.

"It's alright Adri, Mommy's here..." She cooed as she picked up the wailing infant from her crib.

With the bottle in hand feeding her, Kirsty rocked baby Adri in an attempt to get her to sleep. She sang her the melody that was sung to her all those years ago when she herself was that little. The crying gradually but very much surely subsided with the baby slowly drifting off to sleep, after patting her in the back so she could burp, of course.

Once the baby fell asleep, she was carefully placed back in her crib. Kirsty walked back to her bed and quietly wept to herself on her pillow. She missed her Hell Priest like crazy, but it was something that had to be done.

In spite of everything, Kirsty knew she had another soul to think about now. Every choice that she makes from then on must be so that Adri has a fighting chance and a good (enough, at least) life. That would mean no more deals with the devil. No more ordeals with the Lament configuration, she won't even try to look for it. Adri is her first priority now.

It's a good thing Ronnie has offered to move in, Kirsty's gonna need all the help she can get. Especially with that masseuse job and the training that seems promising.

Pinhead, on the other hand, now finds himself all alone in Hell once again. He had had to let Kirsty go again for a long time. He will miss many nights with her, in years that of which he will never get back again. He will never get to see Adri take her first steps, or utter her first words, or witness any of her firsts really. As such, he cannot expect Kirsty or Adri to wait for him. Once they exited, the portal closed permanently. Is his God so envious of the favored son that he cannot share his attention with another?

No doubt in his mind at all, that Adri, just like every other human, will inevitably be given her share of the forbidden fruit of desire, pain and suffering herself. It's just the nature of humanity, there is only so much she can avoid before she gives in to temptation and pleasure. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock.

"Are you alright, Priest?" The Novitiate asked in earnest.

"What mandates your presence when it had been made clear that my solitarity is of _my_ choosing?" Pinhead sniped, clearly irritated by the novice's inquisitive nosing.

"The rest of your Gash are concerned of your well being after what happened. You have reclused yourself for a long time."

"And my Gash did not see it fit to come to me themselves?"

"I am the only one you have listened to lately."

"Because I have no choice."

"Precisely. It will continue until you rise out of hiding and rejoin the masses."

Pinhead sighed. "Fine."

He stood up out of his seat and exited his quarters. All three members of his Gash were there.

"Your Unholiness, this is unlike you to shut especially us out. We are very much sorrowful about what happened." The Open Throated Woman consoled.

The Chatterer clicked his teeth in agreement.

"I am sure you _are_." He seethed towards the both of them.

Butterball decided to speak out himself. "Pity... Not... Of... Yourself... The child... She will return... As shall Kirsty... I... Have... Seen it." He spoke in between wheezes as much as he could with the deformation of his face limiting his speech. "Now come. There... Are... Many... Souls... To reap."

Pinhead relented, as much as he wanted hole himself in his dorm, he knew for a fact that as Hell Priest, it was not feasible in the long term. He would have to move on, and accept that Kirsty will do what she must for Adri without him. He will sneak out from time to time, that much is true. Even with all of that in mind, he couldn't help but feel it was all part of a grand plan, but what was the endgame? What higher power seeks for something big to happen? What does this demon or angel have to gain? These are the questions he will eventually find out in the long run, but for now, he will have to play the waiting game and carry on.

**Author's Note:**

> You like? Let me know!
> 
> -Sister Jex Corvus


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